


Ûgk-Ma

by Lunarium



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Orc Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into the life of an orc who remembers when her sisters once wept for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ûgk-Ma

My last and first memories were the same: my last as one of the elves, the valor Hwenti, and my first as the fiends they had made me become. I was dragged across the uneven ground by a leg, gripped by one of my now fellow orcs, fallen long before I have. His intention of me was clear, but before he could take another step an axe appeared and hewn him cleanly down the middle. 

A giant orc, a woman such as myself, gathered me into one free arm and dragged me into a corner inhabited by others such as myself and her. Here became our home, our headquarters. The men were more brutish and primal, but we formed our own society within the orcs, taking the giant orc as our leader. She became known as Ûgk-Ma, Big Mother, and she made certain no harm came to us. 

Women were taken from the elves for one purpose, but in the end we decided who were worthy enough to breed with us before we turned our backs, and sometimes our blades, on them. When we weren’t with child we were on the battlefield, ours hearts filled with hatred for the orc men and the one who twisted us, hollowed out our hearts and pried open our brains until we knew nothing but rage and hate. But amidst all this was also another primitive instinct, a need to see our orc sister survive another battle. I would not call it love. We did not know it any more, and what sort of love was mixed with anger, a desire to see ourselves alone make it to the end of the world while the others defeated? We scorned at the thought of it. It was not love, but pride and dignity. We would not fall, and neither would we see one of our own. To Morgoth was our loyalty only on the surface; in the end, we only looked out for our own interest. 

I only remembered one of my sisters, my elven sister, when I was about to disembowel her to feed my child. She escaped from my grasp in time and stared into my eyes with terror. Remembering her name, I called out to her and pointed to the orc infant I had placed on the ground, her nephew. But she found him as hideous as she had found me, and she shrieked and ran from my sight. Soon enough I was facing my sisters and mother, and my father and the arrow he had pointing at me. 

I fled with my son gripped in my arms, hearing the loud sobs of my sisters follow me back home. 

“You are with no family, Ulbandi,” Ûgk-Ma reminded me later on that night as my child licked the last strip of meat from the bone of our kill. “We are only family.” 

“Yes,” I agreed, my voice groveled yet hollow. 

I met my father again once more, when he was captured and dragged to face the orc queen sitting on her throne of bones and rock. 

“Your father,” she said to me, not seeing the dawn of realization that crossed my father’s face. “Do I spare him?” 

Sparing him could lead to my death, for he had pointed his arrow at me. It was not out of revenge, but in knowing how the minds of elves worked. Survival was our only goal, because everyone, even our own men, hated us. 

I shook my head even as my father cried out for me with open arms for his daughter to return to him. 

How easy it was for the elves to forget. The tears of my sisters at my appearance were unshed by their children, and their children - my great grandchildren - chased me with foul insults hurled from their fair lips. I remember the day when Ûgk-Ma fell in battle, and I received the name in her honor. Over the years I watched the final ties between us and the elves diminish as we became sole enemies, fighting for the simple fact of being natural enemies. 

But I never forgot our beginnings. 

The world had long since changed, and I was with yet another child. I carried him in my arms amongst near an elven camp, for I did not fear them, when one took notice of me, and noticing my sex, contorted his face in revulsion. 

“Sick beast,” he said aloud for his friends to hear. He strode next to me in arrogance. “You cannot tell what’s causing the foul stench, if they’re unwashed or don’t bother to wipe. Or is it from the filth you popped out this morning and now carry in your arms? Such a disgrace. Do all of your kind walk unclothed like this?” 

The other elves in the camp sniggered, undoubtedly thinking me weak for being a woman. I peered into his eyes, recognizing the great-great-great grandfather and mother I once walked alongside, singing in merriment as we dwelt in our new home of Doriath. 

As he laughed I reached out my hand and snapped his pretty, thin neck. His friends I dealt with soon after.


End file.
